


Any other day

by ColourShot



Category: Bottom (UK)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Kind of Depressing, M/M, Not a fun one, Past Character Death, this one hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourShot/pseuds/ColourShot
Summary: It’s Richie’s birthday and the flat is horribly quiet. It’d been quiet for a long time.
Relationships: Edward "Eddie" Elizabeth Hitler/Richard "Richie" Richard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Any other day

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this one hurt to write... 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Or...not enjoy it...depends on how this fic makes you feel.
> 
> Quick warning for: Drinking (the amount you'd expect from Eddie) and not really eating a whole lot. Also vomiting.

7:30 am.

Seven bloody thirty am. Eddie had been waking up earlier and earlier these days. Though maybe “waking up” wasn’t totally accurate. Eddie hadn’t ever gone to sleep. He hadn’t been doing much of that recently but certainly not today. Eddie couldn’t shake the growing pit of dread in his stomach as the night’s hours drew on. He hadn’t even been able to drink himself to sleep, like he’d been doing so often. It was Richie’s birthday today.

Oh how Eddie wished it wasn’t.

“Morning Richie.” He stood outside the door to Richie’s room. Eddie wasn’t sure _when_ he’d started wishing Richie a good morning. Although he never added the “good” because it was _never_ a good morning. Not anymore. Eddie didn’t know what he expected, some sort of answer? It didn’t stop him from doing it _every_ damn morning. Every single awful morning, he’d stand at Richie’s door, staring at it. The door in question had remained unopened for a long time, Eddie was sure the handle was collecting dust by now.

Once Eddie had decided to stop torturing himself, he went to the bathroom. As he stood in front of the mirror, it became horribly obvious how much of a _wreck_ he looked. He wasn’t surprised, it matched how he felt. He thought, as he cleaned his glasses and put them back on that maybe this would be the day he’d change up his look. The more he thought about that, the stupider that idea seemed, he couldn’t. He didn’t care enough to. Richie had _made_ him care, even if just a little. In fact he could still hear the bastard's voice in his head, fussing over his clothing and rather haphazard cleaning of his glasses. 

“ _Oh, really Eddie. You need to iron this suit, look at all those creases! This won’t do, give it to me, let me iron it. And your glasses, Eddie. How many times have I told you to use a cloth?_ ”

It didn’t matter that Richie had been shit with an iron and practically burned every piece of clothing he touched with that ghastly thing, at least he’d been trying. Eddie couldn’t stand to think of that for much longer and he rather roughly shoved himself into his suit jacket, slamming the bathroom door after he was finished. 

Eddie wished the fridge didn’t hum so loud, it was making his headache much worse. He stared blankly at the empty shelves. There was nothing to eat, no ingredients to make anything either - there hadn’t been for a long time. Not since...well...no one was around to cook anymore. Eddie certainly wasn’t about to start doing so, even if it meant he mostly starved. He grabbed the only thing he consumed nowadays: alcohol. That part hadn’t changed much but he certainly had lost all his enthusiasm for doing so, it was just to shut his thoughts up. Even now, he could hear Richie telling him to eat. 

“ _It’s been days, Eddie! You need to eat. Do it, for me at least..._ ” 

For him? Jesus Christ, that thought made Eddie’s heart hurt more than his head. He couldn’t think like that, not today. It was horrible enough. Even though his stomach complained, he didn’t listen. It only made him feel worse, that hunger clawed on the inside of him, matched only by the pounding in his head. Eddie felt a bit like he was dying and honestly he wouldn’t mind if he was.

In his search for distraction, he ended up by the phone, eyeing the blinking light that told him he had a message. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear whatever was waiting for him but he needed something, anything, to stop his thoughts. 

“Hey, Eddie-” That was Spudgun. “-Yeah, hey” The gruff tone was recognisably Dave Hedgehog’s. What were _they_ doing, leaving him a message? Eddie momentarily forgot that they were in fact his friends. “We...know what today is and-” _Shit._ “Well we wondered if you’d like to join us at the Lamb and Flag for a drink...or something. Call us back if you’d like to...yeah.” They couldn’t seem to wait to hang up and soon enough Eddie was left in silence again. Of course, his friends remembered. They’d visited at the start, not enough. It never was enough. He couldn’t exactly blame them, he’d told anyone who came to his door to bugger off and leave him alone. Eddie didn’t want to see _anyone_ else.

Well that _hadn’t_ taken his mind off it in the slightest, maybe TV would. Although he doubted it. He began what felt like fruitless search of the shelves. He flicked through vhs tapes, barely reading any of the titles. That was before he stopped, stopped at a tape that had been jammed roughly into the back of the shelf. It’d remained there, untouched for must have been at least a year. Eddie didn’t think he’d ever look at the thing again but he watched himself pick it up, wiping the dust off it slightly and reading the title.

“ _A git’s - Richie’s Birthday_ ” The “a git’s” part had been scrawled out by Richie, obviously the addition had been Eddie’s in the first place. Eddie felt a part of himself crumble and as much as he felt like throwing the horrid tape across the room and watching it shatter into a million pieces...he couldn’t. Maybe it was time he re-watched it, even though that thought made him want to curl up and die.

It was into VCR rather quickly and as Eddie sat down to watch, he began to feel himself regretting the decision. The tv flickered to life and soon enough, he was greeted by Richie’s face.

“ _Um...hello!” He was still trying to work out the camera, evident by the amount of fiddling the man was doing. “I’m Richie and I’m here with...Eddie!” He had stepped back to rather dramatically reveal Eddie sitting in the background._

God Richie was a wanker. Eddie focused on the version of himself on the tv...he looked so much happier. Despite his rather miffed expression, Eddie knew how happy he had been. He forgot what that felt like. 

“ _My great mate-_ ” 

They were more than mates by then.

“ _-Eddie got me this camera!”_

 _“Yeah and I’m already regretting it!_ ” 

Eddie watched as Richie elbowed past Eddie for that before getting an elbow back, something that knocked the camera off wherever it was placed. The picture cut away (not before he heard Richie say “ _Oh, look at what you’ve done now!_ ” followed by Eddie’s “ _Me?! That was **your** fault!_”). When it was back, they were in a different part of the apartment. Eddie was holding the camera this time. 

“ _I’m joined by a complete and utter bastard!” He grinned before turning it around to face Richie, who was frowning slightly at the name. “What’s today?”_

Eddie remembered this day far too well. 

“ _Myy birthday!” Richie had perked up when asked, of **course** he had._

" _Anyone actually coming this year?" Eddie teased him._

Even though he'd done it countless times, for years on end, watching it felt oddly foreign. He mouthed along with his younger counterpart, those phrases that had become such commonplace in their interactions now felt...strange.

_"No." was Richie's response. Eddie went to laugh before Richie added a rather quiet “I...didn’t actually invite anyone either…”_

Eddie watched himself stop and a rather manic grin spread across his face. He remembered how thoroughly shocked he had been (and honestly _still_ was) that Richie had been satisfied with just _him._ The more he watched, the more sickeningly obvious it was how in love Eddie had been with Richie. He still was, that hadn’t changed. 

_”What?” Eddie laughed, almost in surprise._

_“Well...I thought it could just be us.” Richie shrugged slightly, cheeks reddening. “N-Now, give me that camera! You’re horrid with it.” He made a swipe for it, Eddie tried to keep it away from him but Richie managed to grab it. Not before the picture went black again. It soon came back and Richie was staring straight into the camera. “Now, it’s still **my** birthday, so-”_

Eddie stopped listening, too focused on the image in front of him. He was behind Richie, who seemed to be sitting on his lap.

_”I need to do something about your bloody hair” He’d complained, running a hand through Richie’s hair - who turned his attention away from the camera to make a face at him._

Christ, he’d missed playing with Richie’s hair. He’d always do it, when Richie had insisted on sleeping in the same bed when he couldn’t sleep himself - claiming he was scared and just didn’t want to be alone. They’d always end up with Eddie’s arm snaked around his waist, holding Richie perhaps tighter than was needed. And he’d stroke Richie’s hair, something that seemed to comfort him - if it was necessary. Soon enough, it became less and less about fear and more about the fact that Richie _really_ really liked it. So did Eddie. And when they’d get maybe a little too handsy in bed, Eddie’s hands would end up in Richie’s locks. He found himself never caring about the greasiness, no matter how much he teased Richie about it. They’d never really made up for the time they'd lost, had they?

Eddie needed to stop thinking about that, he might burst into tears otherwise. He wiped away the few tears that began to collect, he heard Richie berating him for _not_ crying.

“ _Why aren’t you crying?! I mean I’m only dead! You should be, why aren’t you? Bastard!_ ”

“ _Cause I don’t want to, Rich._ ” Eddie croaked out weakly. He was sure if he started doing so, he may never stop.

“ _Oh, Eddie! You’re terrible!_ ”

Richie’s laugh broke Eddie away from his train of thought. Richie was giggling over something Eddie had said, he wasn’t sure what, he hadn’t been listening. Eddie had given Richie a kiss on the cheek before winking at the camera and shoving his hand in front of it. It wasn’t hard to guess what had come next and Eddie didn’t want to think about that. Just Richie’s laugh had made the man feel like being violently ill.

So he was.

He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stomach the sound of Richie’s laugh. That stupid bastard and his stupidly loud laugh. Even after he’d brought up the little alcohol he’d managed to have kept down, it didn’t stop. He just continued to dry heave, bent over one of the arms of the couch. A few rather desperate sobs broke out of him, this was _shit_ , everything was shit. He felt like shit and he didn’t know what to do. Eddie didn’t have anything else, he didn’t _want_ anything else. What the hell had Richie left him with? 

He hadn’t been without Richie for so long, not properly anyway. They’d done practically everything together and yes, it was bloody fucking miserable half the time but they _had_ had each other. And they’d been happy at times, hadn’t they? Especially after they stopped screwing around and started...well...screwing each other. Perhaps that wasn’t the most romantic way Eddie could describe it but he wasn’t very good with words. He rolled off the couch, not caring that the floor pushed his glasses into his face to an almost painful degree. 

Eddie could have laid there all day, he certainly felt like doing so but...well...Richie deserved at least _something_ to mark the occasion. Something that wasn’t Eddie laying on the floor and crying until it was time to go back to bed. So he pushed himself off the floor, wiping his eyes and fixing his glasses. He trudged over to one of the cabinets, looking for _anything_ remotely special, something Eddie hadn’t already finished off. It was slim pickings but he managed one, particularly dusty and probably rather shit bottle of wine, stashed far back - probably an attempt by Richie to stop Eddie from drinking it. 

How ironic. 

He sat at the table, pouring himself a drink and one for Richie. Eddie’s heart felt heavy enough to drag the rest of him down with it. And it just might. But he had to at least do this...before he got too sad. He raised his glass, seeing Richie do the same. Eddie blinked back a few tears before nodding.

“ _Happy Birthday, Richie._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really been made sad while writing something so this was new for me :')
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!


End file.
